Three Little Birds
by Alaqua Slaughter
Summary: A lot can change in two years. Time is slowly slipping by, with no sign of Castiel, and Dean is tired. Jimmy just wants to help and Sam doesn't want to see where this is all going. Hints at Jimmy/Dean and past Castiel/Dean


**7/23/11**

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><p>The ice cream had Fruit Loops.<p>

Dean ate it slowly, savoring the flavor. Sam had gotten it for him at some obscure ice cream shop and then had run off, shouting back that he'd only be a second.

It'd been a few minutes, but Dean wasn't complaining. He licked the spoon clean with every bite and it was a rare moment of serene, actual _serene_, quiet. The volume of the stereo was low and it was raining. He should have been damn miserable being in the middle of Washington in cold weather, but he was fine.

It was a little odd to him, that he could be sitting in his Impala listening to Metallica at a low volume (when Sammy wasn't around, too) in crappy weather eating ice cream sprinkled with Fruit Loops.

He glanced to the passenger seat, the usual disappointment at the lack of a familiar face_ not _flooding through him.

It was the first time in a _long_ time. It'd been a couple years since Cas had stopped coming around. All of their history hadn't gone up in smoke, but it hadn't been totally repaired either. Dean knew that there would always be fractures and holes and that the trust between them had ended up skewed. Their relationship, not just Dean and Cas, but with Sam, too, had turned from give and take to an awkward dance in the middle of an eighth grade gym.

It didn't help that when Cas took off to live in the greener grass, or wherever the fuck he'd gone, he'd left behind Jimmy.

Sam had bitched and protested and had gone angsty for a while, arguing that they couldn't let Jimmy stay with them. He'd had a point; people tended to die when they put their lot in with the Winchesters and Sam had only been more convinced that they were cursed with the loss of Cas. He hadn't wanted Jimmy to be hit with backlash, especially since the guy had no real skill in hunting or dealing with the supernatural.

It had been awkward as hell. Jimmy was mostly silent the first couple of weeks, content to listen to Dean and Sam argue about him. Dean just figured the loss of Cas had blown some fuse in him, that he was tired of everything he'd been through. He could relate and it bothered him to look at Jimmy and not see a hint of Cas. For his part, Jimmy kept to himself and they never brought up the random departure or speculated about what Cas might be doing. They didn't talk about angels or demons or Heaven or Hell. Certain names were never mentioned and they never looked at each other with pity.

It was just the three of them, arguing about where to put a man who didn't have anywhere to go.

Eventually the arguments tapered off, the seething stopped, and the awkward silences grew to be comfortable. They even managed to hunt the ghost of a witch with Jimmy's help. He'd put down salt lines and, when Dean and Sam had been flung around the room like a couple of rag dolls, he'd burst into the barn they were in and thrown a Molotov on the bitch's remains while she was distracted. Later, he'd stitched Dean up while Sam hovered over him, giving directions. It had hurt and it was crude as all hell, but Dean still bought him a beer and Sam went to work on training him, which they should have done in the first place.

Dean poked at his half melted ice cream. Jimmy was a big help, like Castiel had been, but they didn't _need_ him. It was an itch Dean couldn't scratch. He needed Sam, in turn they'd needed Castiel. But now that Cas was, for all intents and purposed, _gone_, they had tried to take care of Jimmy until Jimmy could take care of himself. He could definitely do some work, but he wasn't essential and it sometimes made Dean want to shake him. _Be important_, he wanted to shout, _you're a vessel, you have a family. You should __**be **__something. You shouldn't be expendable_. It made no damn sense and he suspected Jimmy had an idea of what he was thinking.

Every once in a while, Jimmy _looked_ at him. Like he wanted Dean's approval and that didn't sit right with Dean. Dean had fought for him since the beginning, if Jimmy wanted anyone's approval it should have been Sam's. But every time he managed to be the one to kill something, he looked at Dean with a scary glint that reminded him too much of Castiel. It was very _I'm doing this for you_.

The car door opened and Dean glanced up. Jimmy slid into the passenger seat, his arms wrapped around himself, looking cold and tired. His face was flushed and his eyes were droopy. They'd been in Monroe for about four days, working a case that might or might not be another witch, and Jimmy had rarely left the hotel. As far as Dean knew, anyway.

Dean scowled. "Are you coming down with something?"

"No," Jimmy said, his voice scratchy and Dean felt a shudder run down his spine. He sounded like _Cas_.

"Are you lying?" He asked, shoving aside his suspicion. Castiel was never coming back, he'd accepted that.

Jimmy pursed his lips, burrowing deeper into his coat. Not the trench coat – he'd thrown that away about a month after Castiel had ditched him as a meat suit. This coat was grey and soft and a gift from Dean when they'd been in upstate New York. It was fashionable and expensive, but Dean had been in a good mood and he'd even admitted that Jimmy had grown on him a little. So he'd bought a long coat that he figured Jimmy would look good in and he'd found out he had better taste than he'd thought because Jimmy was fucking gorgeous in the thing.

Dean could even admit he'd been looking. Not often, but he wasn't _blind_. Jimmy was a good looking man and Dean had made it a goal to not let it go to waste. There was the glaring fact that Jimmy had a wife and daughter, but he deserved _some_ happiness back in his life. He wasn't going to ever see them again and Dean would respect the emotional boundaries there, but Jimmy was going toget laid again, so help him _God_. Castiel. Whoever the fuck was running the show.

"I'll be fine," Jimmy mumbled. He tried to discretely clear his throat and ended up coughing.

"Alright, get your ass back to the hotel," Dean said. He reached over to open the glove box and dug around for a moment, Jimmy making a face at him. He ignored it and forced a pack of cough drops into Jimmy's hand.

"I'm not sick." Jimmy protested even as he put the drops into his pocket. "I'm good to go tonight."

Dean shook his head. "No. You're going back and you're getting your ass into bed and you're going to sleep. Sam and I can handle this."

"No, I…" Jimmy trailed off. He eyed the cup in Dean's hand. "What's that?"

"Ice cream." Dean poked at it. He'd only eaten about half, the rest was mostly melted and he felt a little regret that he hadn't managed to finish it.

"Ice cream?" Jimmy echoed incredulously. "You're eating ice cream in this weather?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't get sick. Besides, Sam's the one who got it."

"That's not-" Jimmy frowned heavily. "He shouldn't have. At the very least, it's not healthy. You eat enough crap as it is."

"Hey, you can't talk." Dean jumped a little when Jimmy snatched the ice cream away. He glared. "I was still eating that."

"You were staring at it." Jimmy reached over and took the spoon, too. He dug into the rest of the ice cream, closing his eyes as he swallowed. "My throat's been killing me." He admitted. "I didn't want it to be a problem."

"It's not," Dean said, "if you stay at the hotel and focus on getting better. We can do this one without you. It's fine."

Jimmy played with the ice cream. "I feel useless," he mumbled.

"Hey," Dean frowned and waited until Jimmy looked at him. When he did, Dean put a hand on his shoulder, feeling how tense Jimmy was. He absently rubbed his shoulder. "You've helped out a lot. You can rest. Sam and I got this."

Something unreadable came to the front of Jimmy's eyes and Dean dropped his hand. He shifted in his seat and looked out the windshield, suddenly hoping to see Sam. Some of Cas's habits had stuck to Jimmy; Dean could feel his stare and it was too damn nostalgic. It felt too much like _Cas_ was sitting next to him, Jimmy just a thought in the back of both their minds.

He didn't like it.

"Thank you, Dean," Jimmy said eventually and Dean almost cringed. His sore throat gave him Cas's voice and he was looking at him the way Cas used to. It didn't feel right, like he was betraying Castiel. Like he was betraying Jimmy. It was a stupid thought, but it was _there_ and Dean willed Sam to hurry his ass up.

"I don't thank you enough," Jimmy went on, oblivious to Dean's internal _whatever-the-fuck_. "I know you guys don't have to put up with me. But I appreciate that you do."

"It's not a problem," Dean said gruffly. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

Out of nowhere the backdoor opened and Sam, with his gigantor limbs, clambered into the backseat, out of breath for some reason.

"Okay, so I found out where the guy is buried. It's a ghost, not a witch. Turns out, he died in the dentist's chair. He was allergic to something and had a reaction; that's why all those weird deaths. The dentist buried him in the woods because the guy's death would have been bad business or something. I was just talking to him and I locked him in his house, so he's safe for now. The remains are behind a friend's farm – someone to blame, I guess, if he got found out. We should go right now; I don't think Dr. Jones can stay in the salt lines for long."

Sam stopped talking. Then he slowly looked at both Dean and Jimmy, a frown slowly appearing on his face.

"Is-"

"We aren't going anywhere until Jimmy gets his ass back to the hotel," Dean cut him off and jerked his thumb towards where they were staying. "He's coming down with strep or something. We have to leave him."

Sam eyed them both for a moment, his mouth starting to twist in that way that could only mean he was gearing up to have a heart-to-heart sometime soon, though Dean couldn't think of a reason why. Jimmy was just sitting there, his expression carefully neutral and he _still_ looked like Cas.

He wondered if he could train it out of him.

"If he feels well enough to go, I think he should go," Sam said, sounding like he was trying to be careful. "We could use an extra hand."

Dean raised his eyebrows. Jimmy shifted in his seat. He finally dropped the Cas expression and ran a hand through his hair, looking torn. It occurred to Dean that this conversation would quickly spiral into a predictable argument between him and Sam if it continued.

"Jimmy needs rest. We can't have him collapsing on us when we need him," Dean said. He'd put as much gruffness into his tone as he could afford without making himself look like a protective idiot. Jimmy could take care of himself, he was aware of that, but illness made him uncomfortable. He was almost sure that Cas had done something to his immune system; he hadn't gotten sick since that time with Pestilence and before that he'd been fine ever since he'd come out of Hell.

"It's fine," Jimmy said quickly as Sam opened his mouth. "I'll stay behind. You guys are used to working by yourselves anyway, right?"

Sam frowned. Dean just cocked an eyebrow.

"Dude, we haven't been on a hunt by ourselves in a while," Sam said. "I mean, you've been with us for almost two years."

"Oh." Was all Jimmy said.

"Jimmy, get out. Get to the room. Go to sleep. We'll be back tonight." Dean put the Impala in drive as an extra incentive.

"Okay, you guys be careful," Jimmy slowly got out, not moving when Sam appeared behind him to take his place. He hesitated, fidgeting for a moment. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Come back in one piece, _please?_" Jimmy looked so worried that Dean wanted to pat his head and tell him everything would be okay. Which was an odd way to react to _Jimmy_, but he felt the least he could do was reassure the guy. Especially since the last time they'd left Jimmy behind on a hunt they'd very nearly forgotten to go back and pick him up.

He smirked. "Of course."

Jimmy didn't look reassured. But he moved out of Sam's way and lightly jogged back to the hotel.

Sam had a smirk on his face that Dean felt was unwarranted.

"What?" He snapped.

"Nothing." Sam held up his hands in a placating gesture. "He just seemed… really worried. About _you_."

"Whatever." Dean pulled away from the curb, Sam still running his mouth.

"It makes sense. You're the one who's always arguing on his behalf and you do things for him all the time. Like that coat. Are you ever gonna tell me what was with that? Anyway, maybe he has a crush. I wouldn't doubt-"

"Sam."

"What?"

"Shut up."

Sam's smirk only got bigger. "Dean and Jimmy? Sounds like some kind of country couple, but hey, if you want him, I'm not gonna stop you… wait. That'd be the other around. I wouldn't stop _him_ if he wanted _you_."

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Can you just give me the directions and shut up?"

"Turn left here," Sam vaguely pointed at the next crossroad. He eyed Dean's grip on the wheel. "Are you actually _upset?_ You know I was only teasing. I don't think he actually-"

"Shut. Up. Sam." Dean took the turn sharply, feeling satisfied when Sam let out a yelp as he flew into the door.

"Is this about _Cas?_" Sam nearly shouted when he straightened out.

Dean kept his mouth shut.

Sam, of fucking course, looked sympathetic. He didn't try to touch him or anything, though, which was a relief.

"I'm not gonna pretend to know what you're feeling or thinking," Sam started carefully. When Dean didn't interrupt or tell him to shut up again he continued. "I didn't know him as well you did. I wasn't as close, but if it's bothering you after _two_ years you need to talk about it. Turn right and keep going until you see the red barn."

Dean followed the instructions. Sam went on. "I think you should talk to Jimmy. He was _literally_ the closest person to Cas and he _likes_ you." He paused. "And not in the way I was teasing you about earlier."

There was no red barn in sight. Dean flexed his fingers.

"Dean?"

Dean turned up the volume as response. No Leaf Clover came on and while it wasn't Dean's favorite song, he started belt out the lyrics as loud as he could.

Sam let him get away with it.

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><p><em>AN: This was planned as a one-shot. I do have an idea as to what I can do with this story, but for now it's just this. I'm not holding it hostage for reviews or anything, this is just a budding idea, so don't be surprised if nothing is added. IF it keeps going, it will eventually be JimmyDean with references to Castiel/Dean. Just so you're warned._

_As always, thanks for reading. Spot anything inconsistent, grammar or spelling mistakes, let me know._

_Slaughter_


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